


What Do You Want?

by Diztastix



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Cunnilingus, F/M, Multi, My First Smut, OT3, Polyamory, Rixonne crap fic, anti-jessick, comments welcome, critiques encouraged, daryl on drums, hint of Glenn/Maggie/Tara, michonne sings, not for jessick shippers, rated JSS for Just Super Shady for no reason, rated P for Petty, rick plays guitar, tara brings the bass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 05:51:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5528444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diztastix/pseuds/Diztastix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had all these pent up Rixonne feels and I decided to unleash them into this crap angsty smut fic for the whole Rixonne fandom to enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Want?

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [cutting my hands up every time i touch you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4504359) by [maranhig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maranhig/pseuds/maranhig). 
  * Inspired by [Living in Fame](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625517) by [superblackmarket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/superblackmarket/pseuds/superblackmarket). 



> This work was clearly inspired by another fic so I very much hope that the author doesn't think I'm too much of a leech and hate me to death for writing this because that story is one of THE best contributions to the entire fandom and I bow at their feet. 6A had us all feeling some type of way so if you're a Jessick shipper this is not the fic for you. For the Dichonne and Rixonne lovers I know it's a bit of a long read for a short smutty pay-off but I hope it's enough to get us through the next month or so of waiting for 6B, please enjoy.

"I'm a little effed up right now. . ." aka "When you can barely process being in love with one person, let alone two."

Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel didn't help make the choice any easier. Back to the only family that chose her? That really needed and appreciated her? Or run off, like usual?  
If she did return she would probably have to finish up the humiliating photo shoot she'd stomped out of and stole the black '67 Chevy Impala from, flipping the bird behind her, like a brat. In the last few years as the front runner of her band, The Next Way Out, Michonne took zero shit but she'd never been a rock- star diva. At the moment it all seemed like a petty tantrum but she'd just about reached her comfort level for the day. Putting her in those clothes, if you could call them that, and pushing her up against _them_. Rick. Daryl. Shirtless. Spritzed down with that gunk that made their muscles glimmer and glisten in the too- bright studio lighting. It was all so much. Michonne had dreamed of being this close to them both in some of her wilder fantasies but she was nowhere near ready for this. Touching Daryl, flesh to flesh in these ridiculous outfits or in Rick's case, barely dressed at all.  
Her locs had been twisted up into a high bun and they'd fastened a huge bib necklace around her throat that sparkled brilliantly, but felt like an anchor it was so heavy. Daryl and Rick had been chained, the ends of which were held in Michonne's hand as though she held them in her thrall. It was a silly joke as far as she was concerned but in reality, it was true. And everyone could see it but her. They didn't just look to her for guidance, they waited for her words with bated breath.  
Diamonds and emeralds poked and prodded her with every move she made, which tended to be a lot. Photographer, stylist, designers, they all wanted you in every position from every angle.  
"Arms up, arms to the side. Drape that leg over, drop it down a bit. Hold. Hold it. Riiigt there." Just when she thought they'd be finished for the day the photographer pulled them over to the exposed brick wall. Rick and Daryl on either side of her with Glenn and Tara kneeling on the hard floor in front of them. Glenn clung to Tara's scantily clad body, looking uncomfortable. Maggie would have to see these photos. She was at home with baby Hershel where she would stay while they recorded the new album and went on tour. Sometimes press was the only glimpse she got to see of Glenn while he was away and this press would prominently feature him cuddled up tight next to their ex.  
"Michonne, lift your leg and throw it across Rick. Great. Daryl, grab Michonne by the waist, pull on her. Really grip her, like you're fighting over her. Perfect. Michonne, reach around there and touch Daryl's neck, keep holding that leg, Rick." She placed the hand not holding the chains on Daryl's throat and in the quick moment she took to roll her eyes in derision she caught a flash of something strange in his eyes. Anger? Jealousy? Maybe something else. He held her gaze for a second, almost challenging her. Confirming her suspicions? That couldn't be right. Daryl was just over the lengthy shoot, like she was. She shrugged it off as she usually did when her feelings got too real.  
"Perrrfect! That's the shot guys!" the photographer calls out. That damned photographer. Basic bottle- blonde with hipster glasses and an awkwardly built body that she tried desperately to show off for Rick. God, what a twit, Michonne thought to herself. Jessie was a well known photographer having failed at being a model, designer, stylist, make up artist- you name it she'd blown it and word quickly got around that the same applied to many of the people she worked with. The band hated working with her because every single time they did it was easy to see where she got her reputation. At least this time, as a photographer, Jessie had found her true place, on the outside looking in. If she was as good at this job as everyone said she was then this mess would all be over soon. Still, Michonne didn't like it. She'd already given her angry side eye for needlessly groping Daryl to move him into positions, patting and rubbing his muscles. After that she'd kept her hands on her camera and off of the band. Michonne huffed a sigh of relief ready to shed this laughable ensemble and return to whatever her version of 'normal' was.  
"Oookay, one more set and we can call it a day, alright?"  
"NOOO!" Michonne, cried, throwing her hands up in the air. "No more sets, no more costumes- this is bullshit! We've been here for hours wearing these stupid fucking clothes, sweating our asses off and starving half to death!"  
"I understand but we just don't have enough material to work with, just yet."  
"Work with this! I'm going to eat!" Michonne shouted, throwing up her middle finger at Jessie. The 67 Impala they'd all posed in together 4 hours ago was still sitting outside the lot, gassed up and ready to go. Making a beeline toward the car she stopped just long enough to grab her jacket and throw it on to cover up her over- exposed skin. Daryl caught up with Michonne and moved in front to block her exit. He took her hands in his and looked at her, pleading with his eyes. "Please don't. Just one more and we can all go back to the hotel and eat. We'll have some food sent to the room and it can be waiting for us when we get there?!"  
"Fuck off, Dixon! I'm done. If this is how they want us to work it isn't worth it. We've been here all day taking pictures when we could be working!"  
"It's part of the package, 'Chonne. If we don't do this the rest of it? It all just goes away, you know that."  
"So help me, Daryl, if you don't get out of my way I will EAT YOU. ALIVE!!!" The last part she shouted through her teeth with a look in her eye that told him she might have actually meant it. Daryl glanced over at Rick, who shrugged as if to say What, are you gonna stop her? Rick understood what Daryl was feeling. It could only be understood by someone who was also so helplessly in love with Michonne. Loving her meant wanting to navigate her rough edges instead of trying to smooth them. When you cared for a woman like her you had to swim in her waves or you'd be washed away. As Michonne sped off in the car Rick watched Daryl watch her go. Nothing really hurts like knowing the two people you're in love with are hot for each other. Not your wife leaving you for your best friend or even the fact that your son blames you for it. Because they could fix all of that, together.  
Daryl was the one who knew how to pull Michonne from her moods, though. He was her best friend but more than that, they were soul mates. One look usually told him all he needed to know about what was going on in her head. Sometimes, he could even see the mental gymnastics she had to perform just to come to the same, wrong conclusion. " _We can't_ all _be in love, together. That's crazy. He's just being him, it's just who he_ always _is, right_?" Michonne would bottle up and deny the feelings that existed but Daryl knew. They were both in love with the same man. And each other.

@@@@ 18 Miles Out @@@@

Hours later he found her in a deserted lot less than 20 miles away from the warehouse.

"Came to bring ya back, darlin'."  
"You talkin' to me or the car?" She deadpanned, grabbing her purse off the seat to clear space for him to sit.  
“I'm insulted. . . Y-you didn't scratch her peelin' out or nothin', did you?” He shot back, pulling off a look of genuine concern. Michonne wouldn't admit it but she was relieved that he'd showed up. It made her see there was no choice. She knew what she needed, she knew what she wanted. They needed her just as much. If she could just push those other feelings down until they disappeared she could still have it all.  
She couldn't believe he'd tracked her all the way down to the cheap motel they'd left for finer digs in the city. Paid for by the record company. Another thing she couldn't get used to. Working multiple jobs at a time and sleeping like sardines together in single family houses got the band where they were today. Her parents had done too good of a job raising her to get by on her own. They'd told her she'd always have to work twice as hard to get half of what she deserved and here she was wearing shit that could pay off her parents house and flying around in private jets when the hardest work she'd done for any of it so far was take some pretty pictures. “In this day and age, marketing is eeeverything, bro. We gotta re-brand, make you more appealing to more people.” That's what the execs had said to her. Nothing about the public life she led reflected the struggles that made the band but now that they weren't footing the bill themselves they had to make compromises. She already knew that. Accepted it. Had her ways of getting around it, professionally. There were two very good reasons that she stormed out of that shoot and one of them was now leaning through the passenger side window, his toned arms dangling just inside. A quick glance down the front of his deep v neck top told her he was already sweating in the GA humidity. And as long as she'd been sitting there knew she must reek. God.   
Of the people she did consider family, Tara, Glenn, Rick, Maggie, Rosita, it was always Daryl that grounded her. They brought one another back to reality. They brought Rick back from the brink. Each had come from families they had to leave behind to be happy. Daryl with his painful past and Michonne walking away from the opportunity of a lifetime to pursue her music. After the law firm that offered her that opportunity became the firm that represented the record company that signed the band, her band, Daryl made sure a few copies of the AJC made it back home to her parents. She wouldn't rub it in their faces but he damn sure could, for her. They called. And even before, when Daryl almost spiraled too far into his depression it was Rick and Michonne that whisked him away down south, and got him the help he really needed. Daryl didn't like to think about what might have happened if they hadn't, something he'd told his therapist surely a thousand times. They started writing on that trip to his hometown with Glenn and Maggie and soon Tara was adopted into "the family band". All of that brought them where they were now. Together. Yet they both loved the same man and weren't sure how they could both have him while loving one another at the same time. Thinking about having them both took Daryl's mind places he knew it had no business going. When he tried to focus on Michonne's thighs, alone in his bed at night, it was Rick's beard that interupted. If he pictured strong, rough arms gripping him from behind then suddenly Michonne's soft, slender limbs would be there too. Caressing his chest and snaking around his hips.  
“He-looo? Daryl. . .?”, she called out. Her voice drifted back in like tuning the radio to the station he was looking for. She'd asked him if they were in the right lane to get back to the studio but pulled over when she noticed the glazed over look on his face. Was he daydreaming? That was something Daryl rarely did, if ever. She couldn't help but take in how adorable he looked. His face scrunched up a bit and his lips were pushed out in an irresistible pout. But resist, she did. She'd been resisting Daryl ever since she saw him that first night in Rick's parent's den- behind his drums, absentmindedly twirling his sticks.  
Seeing her float down in to his best friends' basement was like a mack truck to the chest. Her locs hung down around her face more, back then, hiding her beauty from the world. Allowing just enough of a peek for him to see that it was there. She'd been so quiet and reserved, back then, but the more she came around the more he couldn't stop thinking about her. And the more there was to think about the harder he fell in love. Faced with the idea of going back to her family and leading them to everything they'd ever hoped for Michonne was afraid of nothing and no one. Except. . . Maybe the way Daryl was looking at her right that second. And leaning toward her with an insistent curiosity, eyes zeroed in on her mouth.  
A moan that she'd been fighting for what seemed like a lifetime slipped out when his lips consumed hers. Michonne was finally done fighting. It was time to let herself have what she wanted and here it was, slipping his hand up her skirt in the front seat of the car.  
The hotel room lock had barely clicked when two bodies crashed together in an explosion built from years of pent up sexual repression. As Daryl held her close Michonne could distinctly feel stiffened cock through distressed denim. Her panties grew uncomfortably slick when he pulled back to snatch off his shirt. Boots and pants came next. His magnificent physique coming into view bit by mouthwatering bit. The marketing department or the advertising assholes or whothefuckever would have to make do with the photos they had because right now the only picture concerning her was the one of Daryl, tossing his clothes to the floor of her swanky hotel suite. It took no time for him to free her from the little black “dress” she wore. The flimsy straps gave to his pull and when they didn't he just ripped at them until they were both naked. Bare. Ready. Michonne led them over to the bed and eased him on top of her. Not moving, just holding on for dear life. Partly just wanting to hold him there forever but also from not knowing what to do next. Was this really happening, with him? Did this mean she was choosing? She didn't want it to. Hoped it didn't. She wanted to enjoy the feel of his lips wrapping around her hardened nipple without thinking about what would have to happen after. The way he circled his tongue around and around was enough to drown that out until. . .  
“Are you thinking about him?” It was stated clearly as a question, not an accusation. More of a need for reassurance. Daryl had to know that he wasn't alone.  
“I was. Is it that obvious?” Michonne wondered if her body felt as conflicted as her brain. There was no way she wouldn't allow herself to enjoy this but in the back of her mind she wanted it with Rick, too.  
“No, I was just thinking about him. Wishing he was here with us.” Daryl absentmindedly stroked her shoulder.  
“He could be. He might be, if we give him time. Show him it could work.”  
“But for now. . . ?” he inquired.  
“For now. . .” This kiss was long and lazy. Filled with relief. He picked up the pace, biting at her lower lip and licking down to her neck to nibble there, as well. Now was no time to be coy. Tonight was about being themselves with one another, unleashed and unapologetic. Daryl pulled back and stroked at Michonne with the head of his penis, lubing it up with her wetness and driving her wild. He sensed this and instead of sinking right in as soon as he could he probed at her folds and sucked on her nipples, allowing the full length of himself to run up and down a few times before stopping again to tease at her engorged bud. She was leaking her sweet smelling nectar all over the sheets now and as much as he needed to be engulfed in her softness there was nothing in the world that could keep him from stopping his ministrations and throwing himself in face first, drowning in her heat.  
Fireworks exploded behind Michonne's eyelids as Daryl's lips and tongue explored her most sensitive spots. Fighting for breath she gripped and clawed at his back, soothing the scars left there from his past. Fingers raked through his hair and her feet planted themselves on his shoulders. Daryl held Michonne down to earth, once again, as orgasm after glorious orgasm rocked her from head to pinkie toe. It twitched.  
Only when she was breathless and panting did he slide his way back up her body to position himself at her opening. He teased just a tad more to get himself wet enough for her and then. . .  
“Ahhhhhahahaaaaa, yessss.” Michonne felt almost all of him at once and reclined into the mattress. He was of fairly average length but thicker than most. She reveled in the burst of pleasure he delivered with each thrust of his impressive girth, spreading her legs as wide as they would go. She wanted to feel every bit of him there was inside of her and she did, steadily harder and faster until his balls were slapping against her asshole sending even more jolts of electricity through her. After another orgasm shook her legs and brought forth violent groans she flipped herself over on top of him and rolled her hips back and forth. She was determined to make him come as hard as she had and this was her sure fire way. She wanted to do this all night but it had been so long since Mike, and god Daryl was just so thick!  
Pinning Daryl's shoulders to the headboard and leaning in close Michonne could tell from the sounds he was making that she was well on her way. She moved her hips faster, more in tune with his breaths and brought her ass down harder each time. His breathing grew heavy and his thighs began to tighten underneath her. She took a minute to lean back and massage them, rolling her hips as she did.  
“Fu-f-fuuuuck. . .” he groaned out, not wanting the night to end. She was pure heaven, inside and out. The feel of her ass in his hands, tits in his mouth- her pussy tightening around him. He pumped a few more hard, quick thrusts into her before she cried out yet another orgasm. Hot and wet this one dribbled down his balls and soaked through to the mattress. No matter, the suite had another full sized bed and they'd be sure to clean this one, themselves. Leaving it for the hotel staff just seemed rude at this point. Michonne was coming everywhere. Her moaning in his ear pushed Daryl over the edge and at long last he spilled his seed into her. She could feel the warmth of it flooding her pussy and joined him in the long ride back down to reality. They both cleaned up and dressed for bed in the other room together loving the feeling that while something had changed, it didn't, really. Not at all.  
Two doors away Rick tossed around in bed, alone, wondering where the other 2/5 of his band could be. His phone buzzed and he opened it up to see that it was Jessie, the flirtatious photographer wanting to meet for “drinks”. He snapped the phone shut and turned over. If he'd known where those two band mates were just then he would have given anything to be in that bed with them.


End file.
